The Kings Across the Sea
by Leryline
Summary: Elessor and Isâk Sìden, the kings of the Astêrian Empire in the far west, make plans to cross the water and travel to Westeros to investigate a strange, dark storm brewing over the north. Chaos quickly descends and relationships are pushed to their limits as they battle to keep those they love alive.


_A/N: this is a story set in the GoT-verse world, but not in Westeros or Essos (at first). All the content and characters (at first) are my own. __**Read and review! :)**_

**Elessor**

"His royal Majesty, King Sìden of Astêros!"

The assembly bowed lowly and simultaneously, covered in a blanket of deep silence as the king rose form his throne.

Elessor Sìden rose from his bow silently, his angular face scouring the face of his king.

Isâk Sìden looked down from the high platform on which he stood, his dark eyes wickedly vigilant. Elessor shifted his eyebrows ever so slightly.

Deyton and Leraia Sìden stood beside Elessor, their eyes watching their father intently. The Astêrian Empire had gained a new emperor, the nation having gained a new king. For this many were glad; the previous king had been nothing less than a tyrant; a gilded tyrant. Nobody knew this better than Elessor Celscae (as he had been previously known), the son of the man himself.

Many had speculated at the betrothal between Elessor Celscae and Isâk Sìden. They were two men, one a prince and the other a soldier, who had been in each other's company since Elessor had been ten years old. The kingship of Isâk had come as even more of a shock to the good people of Astêros.

Isâk Sìden was a good man. He had a good heart, although some did not expect him to. Distantly related to the Dothraki, it was no surprise that the man was a giant. His skin was darkened by the sun, his hair coarse and long, and if not for Elessor it would be neither cut nor cleaned. The Dothraki barbarianism still slept deep within him, though it did not surface often. Isâk Sìden was a patient man, though when his temper flared a prayer was said for all who were subject to his wrath.

It was in the land of Astêros Isâk found himself when his parents were exiled from Vaes Dothrak for theorised treason against the Khal. Subsequently his parents were later killed and he was left an orphan.

No matter how much Isâk hated the previous emperor, he still had to thank the man for allowing him to stay in the palace of Tûvor, the capital of Astêros. It was Elessor's mother, Alessa, who had decided to introduce the two boys.

When Elessor was twenty-four he fell gravely ill due to poison administered by his own father. The king, Hêna, had refused to see his son. Knowing that Hêna was at fault for Elessor's near-death state, Isâk travelled to the desert-land of Trygon, home of the witch-people of Ytah, to find a healer.

This he managed, though with barely any time to spare. He brought the healer Qyltàr back to Tûvor. Elessor was healed by the magic of Ytah and his life was spared. Isâk had decided to kill Hêna, which he did shortly after Elessor's recovery.

Alessor had fled to Westeros thereafter, seeking shelter with her relatives in Winterfell. Elessor heard no more from his mother.

Taking a bold step away from all the cultural and social expectations of the Astêrians, Isâk consequently betrothed himself to Elessor and the two wedded soon after.

The Astêrians soon grew accustomed to the new House of Sìden, and only three years later Isâk was presented with an heir.

It was known by very few how Deyton Sìden wound up as the heir to the Astêrian Empire. Some speculated magic; after all, the miracle of Elessor's recovery was due to magic, or so the people said. There were whisperings about the Ytah and their powers.

The truth was much simpler. Elessor had stumbled upon an infant child on the steps to the kitchen entrance late one evening when returning from a Lord's manor. Unwilling to leave the newborn child out in the winter cold, he admitted the child to the palace. Instead of giving the child to the palace staff, as was the custom when babies were left at the palace, Elessor formed a strange bond with the child and insisted on raising it himself.

The child, named Deyton after the month in which he was found, had the same eye colour as Elessor did. That certain colour was found nowhere outside the House of Celscae, and it was what the Astêrians called the 'sign of a king'. Isâk had noticed this with a chill, but was moved by Elessor's pleas and allowed him to keep the child.

Leraia Sìden came about in a different way.

On the eastern borders of Astêros there was a war between the Empire and the neighbouring Gaulans, a population of primitive savages. Elessor had accompanied Isâk in battle and together they flattened all opposition. Elessor was known as the 'man who needs no sword', and despite his somewhat androgynous appearance he was widely known for his fierce intelligence and strategic prowess. Isâk, formerly the Captain of the Astêrian Armed Forces, was universally revered for his military feats. Isâk had not been defeated once, something that would have made his Dothraki ancestors proud.

It was there Isâk had found a small Gaulan girl in the aftermath. Elessor had returned to Tûvor with the wounded, and so Isâk was unable to ask for his council.

Eventually he decided to return to Tûvor with the girl, no more than a week or so old.

Strangely for a Gaulan, the girl was as pale as Elessor and had a tuft of snowy hair and deep brown eyes. Isâk knew that Gaulans were people of very dark hide and hair.

During the three-week march from the eastern boundaries of the Empire to Tûvor, Isâk unwillingly found himself rather bonded with the little girl who barely cried at all and had kept him amused throughout the journey with her cooing and sneezing. Some of the women warriors with children of their own helped provide the child with nutrients, for which Isâk was glad.

When Isâk returned to Tûvor, Elessor met him with relief. Isâk, unwilling to give the child up had insisted on keeping it, a proposition to which Elessor readily agreed.

The girl was named Leraia, and she was brought up as the Princess of Astêros.

Despite the absence of a king, Astêros thrived under the rule of the Prince Regent Elessor and the Captain of the Astêrian Forces. The notion of kingship was put out of Isâk's mind for many years, the growing of his son and daughter taking up most of his time.

When Deyton was verging on sixteen and Leraia had just turned fourteen the issue of Astêros's empty throne came to the surface.

Nonchalantly, Elessor had put Isâk's name forward instead of his own. Although Elessor was directly in line for the throne, he thought it wise to instead nominate Isâk. Elessor knew the man to have an even head and although the Prince Regent was, without question, the cleverer of the two, he knew it was best to have a man like Isâk sitting on the throne of Astêros.

Not having considered an alternative to Elessor, the Empire seemed to very much support this idea. Subsequently, Isâk Sìden was crowned as the Emperor of Astêros.

"Hail!"

Elessor smiled slightly, not notably enough for anyone to notice. His angular, Celscaeian features were proud. Leraia clutched at her brother's arm, Deyton watching his father evenly.

An hour later had King Isâk and the Prince Regent in the dining hall, a large vaulted room full of ambassadors and noblemen. Elessor neither knew nor liked any of them, so his attention remained centred around the new king.

"I do believe this is what Deyton refers to as 'coddling'," Isâk told his husband.

Elessor clicked his tongue impatiently. "Don't listen to that boy," he warned. "He's entering into a stage where he thinks that he knows all. I'm merely focussing on you because there is nobody else in this room who I would rather give my interest to."

Isâk watched the man carefully. "How is it you do not seem to age?" he asked in a tone turned gravelly by copious amounts of ale. Elessor disliked drinking, but he had to admit that Isâk could drink almost anybody under the table.

"It is a trait of my people," replied the Prince Regent. "It is to assure us of a lengthy rule."

"Well, make sure you do a good job once I'm gone," Isâk said gravely, bringing the pitcher back up to his lips. Elessor frowned at him.

"Faë," Leraia appeared behind Elessor's chair. To avoid confusion, Isâk had been referring to Elessor as 'Faë' ever since Deyton and Leraia had entered the palace. 'Faë' was the ancient Tûvorian word for 'father'. "Deyton's being awfully mean to me. May I please go upstairs?"

Elessor grimaced, standing. His uncut, snowy hair was pulled back upon his scalp, his high-necked tunic accentuating his sharp features. He looked around with eyes like a hawk, soon spotting Deyton standing in a corner surrounded by women. He looked back to Leraia who was standing dejectedly by Isâk's chair. Her dark eyes were watery.

"Deyton," Elessor stalked over to where his son stood, basking in the presence of some of the fairest ladies of the Empire. "If you do not stop subjecting your sister to such tomfoolery I will renounce you as heir and make Leraia first in line instead. Astêros does not need a fool on the throne. Do you understand me?"

Deyton had flushed slightly with such a public threat. Elessor had never said so harsh a thing before; it came as quite a shock to the boy. It was true that he was less than pleasant to his sister, but that was only because she insisted on following him about all the time, or so he reasoned. He made to argue, but the fire in Elessor's eyes and the attention they were getting hampered his tongue.

"_Laîèd, faë_," Deyton replied. He was often thankful for his ability to speak Tûvorian to his father without the majority of the population knowing what he was saying.

Elessor nodded in satisfaction, turning his back on the boy and glaring sharply at the crowd, who subsequently returned to their conversation.

Isâk was waiting, slumped in his chair with his knees spread apart, his newly-acquired crown slipping slightly sideways on his head. He was smiling.

Leraia stood primly beside his seat, her face serious.

"You're excused," Elessor told her, kissing the top of her head before letting her go. Leraia curtseyed to Isâk.

"Your Majesty," she squeaked with a giggle, causing Isâk to wave her away with a humorous smile. Elessor sat back down and pursed his lips.

"Do sit properly," he remarked sharply. Isâk shrugged his broad shoulders.

"I believe I'm too drunk to sit properly," he replied, not sounding drunk at all. Despite this, Elessor knew him to never disobey his orders and knew that whenever Isâk _did_ get drunk, he barely showed it. He would just march to the king's chambers and promptly lose consciousness on the bed.

"It is after midnight," Elessor continued. "You can leave the rest of the Court to celebrate. You have a big day ahead of you tomorrow."

"You're my husband, not my mother," Isâk grunted, hauling himself to his feet. Elessor followed him as he lumbered out of the dining hall.

When Isâk reached the chambers he and Elessor shared, he didn't pass out on the bed. He waited until Elessor closed the door, and then turned around to grasp the young man by the shoulders. Elessor looked at him inquisitively.

Isâk bent down, kissing the somewhat surprised Prince Regent. He did not draw back to look at Elessor's face before his chafed lips moved down to his lover's sharp jawline.

"Isâk," Elessor sighed. "You're drunk."

Isâk, not listening to Elessor's chiding, parted the young man's high neckline in order to access the soft expanse of neck he so dearly loved.

"Let me take you to bed," Isâk whispered in a rough voice. "Congratulate me."

Elessor forcibly pulled back, looking at Isâk with a bemused expression.

"I believe you do deserve some congratulations," he grinned, putting his arms around Isâk's neck and kissing him on the lips.

* * *

The next morning Elessor woke with an aching head. He hadn't drunk anything the night before and it was a rare event for him to get headaches no matter what the circumstances were. No sunlight filtered through the windows, which Elessor found odd for autumn. He got up out of the large bed, flinging back the furs. Naked, he wandered to one of the large windows and peered out. Over the Cthylian Mountains dark clouds swirled like a maelstrom, isolated bolts of lightning winding through the mass like veins. The sight sent shivers down Elessor's spine.

Three hours later had Isâk seated on the wrought throne of Tûvor. The throne was made for a king – it was large and extravagant. The throne reserved for the queen was smaller and seemingly insignificant, but to Isâk it held all the security in the world.

Despite the fact he had been ruling the Empire for over ten years, he still felt odd sitting on the throne. Elessor had agrees to sit beside him for the most of the day, and together they ran the Empire as smoothly as they had been doing before.

When evening fell, Isâk had recovered from his monstrous hangover and could think more clearly. Whilst Elessor was speaking to an advisor, Isâk sat gazing listlessly at the huge doors of the throne room. Tentatively, he felt Elessor's fingers slip into his, though the Prince Regent's voice barely hitched. He held his husband's hand tightly, feeling his nerves slip away.

Suddenly there was a commotion in the left hall leading from the room.

"Your royal Highness!" a squire called. Elessor turned sharply, his face as alert as a fox's. "The Archduke of Lior has arrived from Úviel!"

Elessor's brother, the infamous Duke Aélwyn of Lior, did not frequent the castle of Tûvor often.

As the sharp sound of footsteps approached, Elessor rose from his seat, his hand leaving Isâk's.

With a flurry of protests and shouting, the Duke made his entrance.

Aélwyn was a thin young man of average height. He was verging on nineteen years now, his face possessing a deceptive softness. He had pale blonde hair, not completely colourless like Elessor's. He also had a pair of fiery green eyes, fringed with thick white eyelashes. He was beautiful.

Even so, Aélwyn was known mostly for his sexual feats. He had wooed the highest of Lords and the lowliest of whores and everyone in between. It was a wonder that he hadn't contracted some disease and died already, but despite his flimsiness he was surprisingly sturdy. Aélwyn was also the king's bastard son, having been born of a whore in the sun-stroked city of Alerin – his namesake. The king has fostered the boy to his close friend Lord Minster, a knight of the crown. Aéwlyn's childhood had been hard and full of bruises. By the time he'd reached the age of thirteen he'd managed to lay himself out of the Lord Minster's keep and return to Tûvor where he was swiftly taken in by his elder half-brother's affection and outstanding kindness. He stood before his half-brother and brother-in-law, his hair gathered upon his scalp and his cloak drawn tightly about him.

"Elessor!" his voice rang out over the murmur. It held a waver that even Elessor did not recognise. "The storm is nigh!"

Elessor took the steps two at a time, taking Aélwyn's arm in his iron grasp and pulling him out into the square before the castle. Aélwyn nodded toward the milling maelstrom of clouds. "Do you wish to admit that you have not felt it coming?" he asked. "I realise that you have been turning a blind eye to the skies, Elessor." His face turned grave. "I think Isâk's newfound kingship has been distracting you."

Elessor started angrily. "I have better things to do with my time than lie with the entire Empire and stargaze!"

Aélwyn regarded him calmly. "I must go and see the wizard," he said in a low voice. His eyes flicked to the direction of the stables. "I travel to Pykrel tonight." His face collapsed into a scowl as he started forward. "Although I can hardly say I wish to travel to that godforsaken town," he stopped a few yards from his brother. "Sometimes I think he dwells in these places on purpose."

Elessor flung the saddle onto the horse, buckling it as fast as his nimble fingers could manage. Aélwyn hoisted himself up into the saddle, reining the horse towards the square.

"You must go to him," Elessor told his brother urgently. "And ask his advice. I doubt he will wish to interfere unless the Ytah are directly related; go, make haste!"

Aélwyn spun his horse sharply round, kicking it into a gallop. He thundered out of the square, disappearing under the archway and away into the darkness. Elessor remained watching the dark formation of stone for a few moments more before looking back over his shoulder at what looked to be an impending, immobile storm.

"Elessor!"

The Prince Regent turned at the sound of Isâk's voice.

"What is going on? Aélwyn has disappeared as soon as he is come." Isâk noticed the loss of colour from Elessor's face. "Elessor," his voice trailed off.

"Isâk," Elessor placed his hands against the King's broad chest. "Listen to me very carefully. You have been busy running the Empire, but I must warn you now that war is nigh. The enemy we must fight against is unbeknownst to me, but it is strong."

Isâk's Dothraki instinct stirred with the scent of battle. "How can you tell such things? Your mind is great but you are no seer."

Elessor nodded to the mountains. Isâk turned to follow his gaze.

"These are no men, Isâk," warned Elessor. "This is something else."

"Father!" came a call, causing Elessor to turn around. Deyton was walking towards them, his eyes bright in the darkness. "What do you conspire?"

Isâk turned to face his son with a grave expression. He lay a heavy hand on the boy's shoulder.

"It is no bother of yours," Elessor chided gently. "Go back inside."

"Why do you hide from me?" demanded Deyton angrily. "Always you keep secrets from me! I am of age now, so why do you still insist on treating me like a child?"

Isâk could see the anguish on Elessor's face.

"My son," Isâk said. "I shall tell you all when I am sure of Astêros's situation. There is no use being uncertain. Great kings are brought down by uncertainty."

This seemed to calm Deyton's anger. "So be it," he muttered. He turned to Elessor. "_À tée, faë_?"

"_Mî dacoë, chèrî,_" Elessor replied tenderly, smiling.

Deyton retired back to the palace, the King and Prince Regent following not long after. The two did not speak.

"What are you thinking?" Isâk asked.

"I am thinking that I need to travel," Elessor muttered. "You're distant relations, the Dothraki, would not take kindly to my coming. You know their customs to foreigners."

Isâk nodded grudgingly. "You know I cannot travel across the Narrow Sea. I am exiled from Vaes Dothrak under pain of death. I am very much aware of the consequences. I cannot let you travel there. I will not."

Elessor smiled. "The man who needs no sword," he mused. "That is what they call me. I have that title for a reason, Isâk,"

Isâk was silent. "Who do you wish to consult?"

Elessor smiled. "You have your relations and I have mine," he replied. "It just happens that we have been connected in two ways."


End file.
